


The Man of Constant Sorrow

by MissMoustachio



Category: L4D2 - Fandom, Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Alcohol, Familial Abuse, Gen, Gore, Major Character Injury, Major Original Characters - Freeform, Recreational Drug Use, Strong Language, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1586228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoustachio/pseuds/MissMoustachio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his friend Ellis is abandoned in Savannah, Keith Marshall makes it his duty to go and bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Young and Uncontrollable

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first L4D2 fanfic and is my return to the fanfiction world.
> 
> There is no shipping in this fic, as it is centred entirely on Keith and his experience before, during and after the Apocalypse.
> 
> I am aware that some of the events in Keith's past or in the fic aren't strictly in keeping with canon; for example, Keith doesn't live with his two older brothers, but his entire family. The lighthouse isn't a no-win scenario. And it took a hell of a lot of adapting to get this as realistic as possible, so please bear with me if there are any plot holes. 
> 
> It's un-beta'd so any mistakes are my own.
> 
> This fic is dedicated to the members of Parle Productions and the Ask-Keith tumblr account. They were the inspirations for this fic and fuelled my love for the fandom.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Left 4 Dead 2, or any part of its franchise. I am in no way affiliated with Valve and am making no profit from this. Should the creators ever request for this fanfiction to be removed, I will remove it. Whilst original characters are of my own creation, nothing else is.

The countryside on the outskirts of Savannah was peaceful, the rolling golden fields swaying slightly in the minute breeze. The sticky heat made the air ripple and the hyper blue sky was clear. A lone rabbit hopped out of one of the fields, a stalk poking out of the corner of its mouth. It surveyed the surrounding area quickly before moving into the road so as to take a moment to enjoy the heat. It remained there for an immeasurable amount of time when suddenly its ear twitched. The rabbit's nose wrinkled as it turned its head to the source of the noise. A cherry red pickup truck was hurtling down the tongue of black road at a mile a minute. Heavy rock blared over the engine and elated screams rang loud over that. The rabbit barely had time to move as the truck flew past it. The rabbit watched as the mechanical monstrosity headed for the horizon. In the open space at the back, a man was waving goodbye to it. The rabbit cocked its head before scampering into the maize once more. 

“YEE-HAW!” 

Keith Marshall laughed as he stood up in the back of the truck, one hand holding on to the roof and the other clamping his hat in place. He threw his head back and closed his eyes as the wind whipped at his cheeks, the sun and the ferocity of the breeze bitch-slapping him and turning his face red. His pink shirt trailed out behind him like a sort of cape and he felt invincible, wonderful, magical!

“Hey Keith?” 

The mechanic's eyes snapped open and he looked down. His friend Ellis was looking up at him, blue eyes wide and hopeful. He too was holding desperately onto his hat, blue and white as opposed to Keith's own red.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if I could have a turn now?” Ellis shouted over the bass of the Midnight Riders. 

“What?!”

“Can I have a- dang it, hold on.” Ellis pulled his head back in and glared at the driver. “Dave, could you turn it down?”

“Huh?” Dave asked.

“Turn it down!” 

“Turn it up?”

“Down!” 

Dave blinked. Ellis rolled his eyes and switched the radio off before jutting his head out again. Keith was gone. 

“Keith?! Keith, where you at?!”

“Hey Ellis!” 

The voice came from the roof. Ellis looked up and Keith was sat atop the truck, his legs crossed and his hands clutching tightly to the sides of the roof. 

“Hey, get 'yer ass up here!” 

Ellis grinned and unbuckled his seatbelt. Dave automatically slowed down slightly as the youngest of the three clambered out of the window and manoeuvred into the back of the truck. Keith rotated and beamed at him. 

“Long time no see!”

“Aw man, this is great!” Ellis hooted and Keith smiled serenely, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah, it's somethin' special alright.” From inside, Dave flicked the radio back on. However, the Riders were no longer playing and instead it was a slower song, something that was molasses slow and sung with the Jack Daniels drawl that sat in Keith's belly and made him think of home. He smiled and the three of them remained in silence as they continued to drive, thinking of nothing but how that moment was the closest to Heaven on Earth they'd ever get. 

~

As they approached the city borders, Ellis slipped back into the front and threw Keith a blanket from the foot space. The red head draped it over his head and laid down on the metal, cursing slightly as it burned his skin. He held his breath and remained as quiet as he could as they drove through the streets to Ellis' house. It was only when the truck had stopped and he heard the doors open that he threw the blanket back and allowed himself to relax. Keith scratched at his arm.

“Dammit, the nylon irritates my burns somethin' awful!” 

“Get Momma to give you some Butt Paste,” Ellis suggested, grinning as Keith flipped him off. 

Dave sniffed into the air and his eyes widened. 

“Hey El, what's your momma making for dinner?” 

“Urm, chicken and grits, I think,” he said absently, scratching the back of his head. Keith and Dave turned and looked at one another excitedly, before sprinting for the door. “Hey guys, wait for me!” 

They didn't, of course. 

Keith opened the door and poked his head in, smirking.

“Honey, I'm home!”

“Keith Ezekiel Marshall, is that you?” Ms. Grissett's voice drifted from the kitchen. She surfaced, wiping her hands on her gingham apron. She smiled tenderly at the three young men crowded in the hallway. “Well don't just sit there, dinner's on the table.” 

The three of them whooped and thundered down into the dining room, where a full spread was laid out for them on the lace-clothed table. In a china bowl was a serving of creamy, cheesy grits large enough to serve all of Downtown Savannah. A plate of fried chicken sat next to it, and a jug of lemonade beside that, so cold that condensation jewelled the outside and dribbled with perspiration. Keith mimed wiping a tear from his eye as his stomach growled like an angry hound. They sat in the order that they always did; Ms. Grissett at the top, Keith facing opposite her and Ellis and Dave on either side of them. Ellis' mom tucked her greying chestnut hair behind her ear and clasped her hands before her. The boys followed suit and she began the prayer.

“Lord, thank You for giving us this bounty and allowing us to have such wonderful opportunities. Bless us in our everyday lives and bless those less fortunate than us; particular mention goes to those in Pennsylvania, who are currently enduring through some kinda flu outbreak. Amen.” 

The boys echoed her and began to help themselves, although Keith's curiosity was piqued by the end of the prayer.

“Ms. Grissett, what was that about Pennsylvania?” he enquired, smacking Ellis' hand away so that he could heap a spoonful of grits onto his plate. 

“Why, ain't you heard?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“I heard somethin' about it on the radio when we were coming back from work today, but I wasn't really payin' attention,” he admitted. 

Ms. Grissett tutted and began to cut into her chicken, carving the meat and skin from the bone in order not to get her hands greasy.

“Well, 14 days ago CEDA announced that there's currently some kind of flu going round the country. Calling it the Green Flu. It started in Pennsylvania so they've got the worst'a it, but it's spreading fast and CEDA ain't doin' much to contain it.” 

“That's 'cause they're useless,” Ellis supplied, mouth full of chicken.

“Close your mouth boy, I didn't raise you in a barn!” his mother snapped and Keith chuckled as his friend hastened to swallow. “Anyway, they reckon it's making its way down to the South and we're gonna get it hard. But the radio said as long as we wash our hands and wear face masks we'll be fine.”

“Face masks... like those avocado ones you wear?” Ellis asked, taking a swig from his lemonade. “'Cause no offence Momma, I don't want to be all girly and shit.” 

He yelped as Ms. Grissett leant over to smack him across the head. 

“Never mind your hands, you should wash your mouth out, Ellis Grissett! And no, it's not those kind of face masks; the kind you wear to stop yourself inhalin' dust.” 

“Oh, we have tons of those at work,” Dave chimed in, putting down his third chicken bone. “And I wash my hands plenty unlike some.” He paused to look pointedly at Keith.

“Hey!” the red head protested, holding his hands up in defence. “Ain't nothin' wrong with my hands!” 

“Urm, Keith?” Ellis tittered, pointing. Keith looked down at his palms and saw that they were covered in paint chips from where he'd clutched onto the pickup truck too hard and had adhered themselves to the perspiration and chicken grease on his hands. 

“Well, shit,” he huffed. 

He narrowly avoided the spoon that came hurtling his way. 

~

It was ten o'clock when Keith got home. The Marshall home was in one of the poorer districts of Savannah and wasn't anywhere near as nice as Ellis or Dave's houses. The shingles were flaking and coming apart on the roof and there was a family of possums living under the porch but it was all Keith had ever known and so he didn't grouse. The lights were all out and he breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he needed was to disturb his family, or rather his dad. He crept up the porch steps, darting out of the way of the creaky step, before trying the door. Unlocked. His dad had obviously only just got home himself.

“Shit,” Keith mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose before stepping into the house. The living room was in darkness and for a moment Keith thought he was in the clear. He began to approach the stairs when the armchair in the front room scraped slightly on the floorboards as his father rose. 

“Did you really think you could get past me that easy, boy?” 

Keith bit his lip and steeled himself before crossing his arms and turning to face the wrath of Vernon Marshall.

“I didn't know you were up, sir.” 

“Don't bullshit me, boy,” the elder man growled, stalking forward so that he was invading Keith's personal space. He could smell the cigarettes and alcohol on his father's breath. “You at the Grissett house again?”

“Yes sir,” Keith replied, leaning back slightly. His father had never been fond of Ellis or his mother; he always saw their kindness towards Keith as misplaced charity and it bruised his ego something awful. Vernon hummed and the wrinkles of his forehead deepened slightly. Illuminated by the moonlight, Keith couldn't help thinking that there was nothing in this world more terrifying than his old man. 

“Did you eat with the family today?” 

“No sir, did you?” Keith asked, jutting his chin out in defiance. His father's reaction was swift. One moment, Keith was on his feet and the next he was on the floor. He clutched his nose and looked up to glare at his father, who was pointing at him. 

“Don't you ever, ever fucking talk to me like that you little shit! You're not the man'a the house, despite what you think! You run off with your little friends, singing in a crappy band and changing the oil of crappy cars and doin' all the stupid shit you do and you think you're hot shit! Well, real life's hard boy, and you're gonna find that out someday real soon!” 

Keith kept his head down throughout the tirade, the elation of earlier seeping out of him in the blood that trickled from his nose and dripped onto the floor. He always bore the brunt of his father's drunken fury; it was better him than his siblings or his mom. It was only when Vernon turned and stumbled back to the armchair that Keith wordlessly pushed himself up and walked up the stairs. 

Keith opened his bedroom door and wasn't surprised to see a flashlight discarded on the floor, the beam piercing through the darkness and spotlighting a damp patch on the wall. His younger brother Deacon was hanging haphazardly off the edge of the bed, his fingers grazing an open book. Keith chanced a look at the cover; 'Dracula'. He smiled and shook his head before switching the flashlight off and gently moving his brother so that he was safely back on the bed. He then headed over to his own bed and went about removing his clothing. His over-shirt was clean but the white tee he wore under the pink one was soaked with blood, grit sauce and car oil. He sighed and took it off before rubbing his face with it, removing the excess before tossing it under his bed with the others. With a minute sigh, he got under the covers and closed his eyes, keeping his fingers crossed that tomorrow would be better than the last.


	2. Thunderstruck

“Keith, you gonna do any work at all today?”

Keith looked up from his Gameboy Colour. Ellis was stood before him, hands on his hips and his eyebrow raised in a way that would have looked condescending on anyone else, but on him just looked kind of hilarious.

“I'm in a boss battle,” Keith said, as if that explained anything.

Ellis bit his lip and for a second it looked as though he was going to start yelling, but he quickly dipped down and hunched over Keith's shoulder.

“Aw man, how far in are ya?”

Keith grinned and was about to answer when Dave shuffled in, his green cap backwards on his head.

“Hi guys,” he greeted, his voice a little too jaunty for a Monday morning. However, Keith and Ellis were too immersed in the game to do little more than wave. “Have you guys started on Old Man Keller's car yet?”

“Yeah, but there ain't much wrong with that old banger,” Ellis answered.

Dave nodded before stopping and grabbing his stomach, groaning slightly as he did so. Keith looked up and frowned.

“Dave man, y'alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dave waved him off. “Just got a bit of a stomach ache, that's all. I think I ate a dodgy sandwich or something.”

“Maybe ya need to take a shit?” Ellis suggested.

Dave shrugged his shoulders and proceeded to the toilet.

Keith yawned and threw the console to Ellis, who threw himself back a bit too far and managed to do a backflip off his chair.

“I'm bored of this. I wanna watch TV.”

The red head trotted over to the television that he'd salvaged from a scrap heap and had fixed himself (after burning off his eyebrows in the process). He flicked it on and, with one well aimed smack on the top, tuned it into the only channel it received.

“Aw boring, the news is on!” Keith scoffed and flopped down on the floor, folding his arms and glaring expectantly at the TV as he tried to block out the noises of Pikachu's lightning attack.

Standing on-screen was a slender woman with strawberry blonde hair, dressed in a pastel green blazer and matching pencil skirt. She stood before a camera, a microphone in hand and a severe expression on her pretty face. Unfolding behind her was a scene of pandemonium, with CEDA operatives in hazmat suits herding stricken members of the public into tents and trailers. On the floor were blankets that, if Keith didn't know any better, he'd say were covering bodies.

_“'I'm Natasha Rollins and I am reporting to you live from Fairfield, Pennsylvania. The city is currently under a state-issued quarantine, as recommended by the Civil Emergency and Defence Agency. We interviewed Marcus Spence, the Official for this district, prior to airing. He had this to say.'”_

The camera then cut to a bespectacled man with narrow eyes and a prominent Adam's apple jutting out of his wrinkled neck. He was talking to someone behind the camera, and his expression read loud and clear that he didn't want to be there.

_“'We have everything under control. The quarantine is just a precaution, as we have reason to believe that the Flu has originated here. If we're careful, then we can control it and restrict it to the Pennsylvania district alone.'”_

_'"But word's gotten out that the Green Flu has already spread and is currently heading towards the Southern States,'_ ” Natasha's voice came from off-screen.

Marcus snorted and pushed his glasses up his hooked nose.

_“'That's just a rumour. I don't know who spread it or why but rest assured, that is far from the case. CEDA is a respectable unit and since 1988 we have been protecting the American peop-'”_

Keith turned the TV off, his nose wrinkled.

“That Marcus man don't know what he's talking about,” he said scornfully.

“He's government, do any of them?” Ellis jibbed.

Keith chuckled when he stopped. From behind the bathroom door, Dave could be heard retching violently. The red head went and knocked on the door.

“Dave? You alright?”

“Y-yeah...” The door unlocked and Dave poked his head round the side, looking ashen and somewhat shaken despite the smile on his face. “You?”

Keith squinted at him before pointing to the corner of his lip.

“You're bleeding.”

Dave brought his hand to the trickle and stared at it as though it was the most awful thing he'd seen in his life. He hastened to wipe it away before smiling at Keith once more; it lacked any real enthusiasm.

“I'm fine, honest. Probably cut myself shaving this morning. I was in a hurry, y'know.”

“My Momma cut herself shaving once!” Ellis piped up from his seat. He hadn't noticed the blood, but wanted to be involved in the conversation regardless. “Yeah, she had quite a lot of pig hair on her upper lip and plucking it hurt way too much so she just decided to borrow my razor and have at it herself. Only thing is, she didn't think to use my shaving cream so she ended up slicing her upper lip to ribbons and she couldn't wear lipstick for two whole weeks and it was about the end of the world for her! 'Course now she bleaches it, but you can still see it in certain lights.”

He stared expectantly at his friends, a sunny smile on his face. Keith gaped at him before shaking his head.

“I swear you ain't right in the head.”

“At least my Ma didn't drop me on mine as a child!” Ellis quipped and Keith glared at him.

“She saw a mouse and automatically threw me at it; it was too late by the time I hit the ground!”

“I don't think that's true, Keith,” Dave added.

“It is! She said she got it on tape, somewhere. And look!” Keith paused to remove his cap. With a flourish, he pointed to a tiny scar to the right of his forehead.

Dave squinted at it and raised an eyebrow.

“So you got branded by the Dark Lord. What's that gotta do with anything?”

He recoiled into the bathroom as Keith went to hit him, the blood briefly forgotten in their play.

~*~

By the time the boys locked up at 3:30pm, they had served five people, including an old woman who forgot how to turn her indicators on and a mother of two whose youngest child crammed a Barbie head up the exhaust.

“Y'know, I'm beginning to think it was a waste of time, us training to be mechanics,” Ellis announced. “We hardly tinker with cars no more.”

“Maybe we should go on 'Jackass?'” Dave suggested.

“N'aw, Keith's already applied five separate times.”

“They're pussies, man,” Keith said with distaste. “I mean, bet they ain't never raced a bull whilst wearing nothin' but a red cock sock!”

“I think they did do that,” Ellis interjected.

Keith huffed and folded his arms defensively.

“Well hell, I've still done way more cool shit than them!”

“Yeah, what about the time you got stabbed by a ghost?” Dave taunted.

“That did happen!” Keith protested, lifting up his vest top to reveal a pink line spanning his side.

“Okay, what about when you deep fried a turkey and got third degree burns on your burns?”

“Hell, you were there!”

“Or when you and Reverend Kernick got wasted on the Holy Wine?” Ellis snickered. “And you ended up having to fill in for that couple's wedding because he was passed out in the pews?”

“Or the time you were a runaway bride? Or the time you and Ellis got married by that hobo?”

“We were drunk!” Keith and Ellis cried together, avoiding eye contact. Keith still had the ring in his bedroom (Ellis had gotten it out of a Cracker Jack box).

“I don't think that man was an ordained minister,” Ellis mumbled.

“Y'know, he might have been the ghost that stabbed me,” Keith added thoughtfully.

Dave laughed and went to speak when, without prompt, he stopped. He frowned and staggered forward, leaning against the wall for support. Then, much like in 'The Exorcist', he lurched forward and proceeded to vomit all over Keith's shirt.

“Aw _hell no_!”

“S-sorry, man,” Dave spluttered, tears streaming as he clumsily wiped his mouth.

Ellis delved in his pocket for a grease rag and handed it to his friend, concern etched on his face. Keith pulled the tee over his head and chucked it in the alley down the side of the garage, briefly taking a moment to wink at the young ladies who were walking past as he did so. He zipped up his coveralls and looked back at the discarded cloth. Mixed in with the sickly brown was deep red and thick globules of black blood clots.

“Dave, we need to take you to a doctor,” he insisted.

“You might have the Clap,” Ellis supplied

“That don't make you vomit blood, moron,” Keith snapped.

“Well, excuse me for not getting enough STDs to know!”

“ _Guys_ ,” Dave intervened. “I'm fine. Seriously. I just need to go home and sleep it off.”

“Are you sure? You can always come stay round mine,” Ellis offered.

Ellis rented an attic room from Ms. Cunningham for $30 a week. The reason it was so cheap was that it wasn't the tidiest or most sanitary of places, with a hole in the ceiling and mice droppings in the corners. It suited Ellis well enough, although he preferred staying at his Momma's house if he could help it.

Dave offered him a shaky smile. “N'aw man, I'm good. I just need sleep and some food.”

“Okay, if you're sure,” Keith said dubiously. “Need a ride?”

“I'll walk it.”

Dave zipped his coveralls up to his neck and waved to them. “Bye guys.”

The pair of them waved as they watched him stagger down the road, his hands in his pockets. Ellis turned to look confusedly at Keith, who just shrugged and looked at his watch.

“We've got a while to kill until your Ma makes dinner. What do you want to do?”

Ellis ran his tongue along his bottom lip and thought before flinging his arm in the air. “I have an idea!”

“Well then please, share your thoughts with the class.”

“How about... we go fishing?”

Keith shook his head fiercely. “N'aw man, not after last time!”

“Hey, you caught a gator! That's no small feat!”

“And then I got rolled by that fucker _three_ _times_!”

“Oh now, I helped ya!” Ellis insisted.

“Eventually!”

The younger mechanic folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“Fine then! What plans do you have, Mr. Big Shot?”

Keith mulled this over before smirking.

“Snow boardin'.”

Ellis raised his eyebrow.

“Urm, Keith? Hate to break it to ya, but we live in Savannah. Ain't much snow round these parts.”

Keith rolled his eyes and began to head to pickup truck.

“I'm aware; I've got a plan. Your Ma still keep her silver in the kitchen cabinet?”

~*~

“HOLY SHIT!”

Ellis let out a pterodactyl screech as he flew down the mud hill on his Momma's silver tea tray. As he hit the floor, he forward flipped onto his back and spluttered.

“Y'alright, bud?” Keith called from the top of the pile.

Ellis coughed and sat up, holding his thumb-up. Keith grinned.

“Well stop fucking around and clear the way!”

Ellis scrambled to the side and Keith turned his cap backwards. He stood and took a deep breath, his Timbaland boots sinking into the brown filth. It briefly occurred to him that it smelt pretty vile, but he'd smelt worse. Gracefully, Keith lowered himself onto his tray and counted down.

“3...2...1!” On the one, he threw himself forward.

The tray sliced through the mud, wobbling slightly under the force of the motion. Keith lurched and swore as he fell off the side. The red head sunk into the mud, the earth filling his boots, his ears, at one point even his mouth. He roly-polyed to the bottom, where Ellis was almost pissing himself with laughter.

“Aw shit, Keith!”

“This tastes awful, man!” the red head whined, scraping his nails along his tongue.

Just then, out of the red barn to the side of the pile, Farmer Lafitte ran out, a pitchfork in his hands and a dust mask over his mouth.

“What're you chiren doin' here?” the old timer shouted, his aged voice richer than whiskey.

Ellis looked up and held his hands up. “Mr Lafitte, it's us; Ellis Grissett and Keith Marshall? We took your daughter Eulalie to prom?”

The farmer halted and regarded the pair carefully, the creases on his brow and around his sunken eyes deepening. Keith sat up and wiped some of the mud from his face in the hopes of easier identifying himself. It must have helped, for the farmer's face lit up with recognition and he gave the pair a gummy smile.

“Coo! Sorry boys, I failed t' recognise ya! Say Ellis, why's your pal covered in pig shit?”

~*~

Keith inspected himself in the bathroom mirror, rubbing his hair with a towel Mr. Lafitte had acquired for him. His clothes were in the wash, so for now he was sporting little more than some oversized denim overalls Lafitte's fat son Denny lent him. He felt somewhat exposed without his hat and sighed as he removed his ear plug and stretcher. Some excrement had gotten in the holes and, as he stuck his finger in his right ear lobe to clean it out, there came a giggle from the door.

Keith looked up to see a young girl with plaits peeking at him, her freckled cheeks reddening when he caught her.

“Hey,” he greeted, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

The girl bit her lip and shied away into the shadows of the corridor slightly. Keith bent down and smiled in the direction of the darkness.

“You don't need t' be scared, sweetie.”

There was a moment of hesitation before the door creaked open and the child entered. She ran her eyes over Keith falteringly, as though she wasn't certain if she could trust him. Keith sat and crossed his legs, so he was now shorter than her. It was a trick he'd learnt dealing with his baby brother Paul; if young kids had the opportunity to look down at you, it made them feel more powerful, more confident, and made communicating with them easier. The girl seemed taken by the gesture, for her cheeks dimpled and she flashed him a smile missing several teeth.

“Y'alright?” he asked and she nodded. “My name's Keith. What's yours?”

“Coralee,” she answered, her voice soft and laced with a lisp. She pointed at him. “Why are you wearing Denny's clothes?”

Keith looked down at his dungarees and gave her a rueful smile.

“I kinda got mucky playing in the mud pile on your farm.”

“That's not mud,” she informed him and Keith chuckled.

“Yeah, I learnt that the hard way.”

Coralee giggled before her attentions turned to his ears. Keith brought his hand to his ear and felt the hole; it was slightly raw from where he'd not twirled it.

“You lookin' at my stretchers?”

“Don't that hurt?”

“N'aw, I've had this a long time,” Keith smiled before a thought occurred to him. “Wanna feel it?”

The girl bit her lip before stretching forward and placing a finger through it. She yelped and pulled back, in complete awe of the deformity.

“Why'd you do that to yourself?”

Keith pondered the question before shrugging. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Coralee hummed before grinding her toe against the ground nervously. Keith tipped his head to the side.

“Shall we go downstairs?”

She nodded and he stood up, brushing his knees down as he did so. “Lead the way, Miss.”

She giggled and skipped ahead, Keith following her dutifully.

They entered the kitchen, a twee room with baby yellow and navy blue tiles on the walls and splintering floorboards. The dining table was squeezed into the middle of the room, where Mr. Lafitte and Ellis were sat, deep in conversation.

Coralee sat down and indicated for Keith to sit next to her. He did so and homed in on the conversation.

“It was the strangest thing,” Mr. Lafitte was saying. “These thugs were jus' shuffling around, gurgling and clutching their heads. I went over to try and help and they attacked me!”

“Gosh, Mr. Lafitte,” Ellis sympathised, cradling a bottle of Bud in his hands. “Did they bite ya?”

“N'aw, I smacked 'em across the head and got back in my truck,” the farmer said. “But you know, their eyes were the scariest thing 'bout it. Milky yellow, like they had cataracts. Ain't seen eyes like that since my Grandma was alive, bless her soul. Keith boy, would you like a beer?”

“Thanks sir,” Keith said, reaching for a bottle and cracking it open before reclining back in a seat. “Hey, where's Eulalie?”

The farmer shrugged.

“That girl goes with the wind. She's probably out with that Yank I saw her sneakin' in a couple'a days ago. Some weasel in a cheap suit.”

“I'll keep an eye out,” Ellis chirruped, swigging the beer down. He paused to look Keith over and smirked. “Lookin' mighty fine, Keith.”

“Hey, no homo,” Keith retorted.

“Are you kidding? Full homo!”

“There's a child present!” Keith snapped, gesturing to Coralee who seemed oblivious to the entire situation. Ellis opened his mouth as if to say something before Mr. Lafitte began to cough, his eyes tearing up slightly.

“Y'alright, Mr. Lafitte?”

The old man waved Ellis off, fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette. He lit it and put it in his mouth, taking a deep drag before blowing a billow of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

Coralee tried her best to smother a cough and Keith patted her back subtly. He looked down at his wrist – which was covered in 'Whispering Oaks' and concert entry bands, the occasional bracelet and an antique wristwatch he'd inherited from his Grandpa – and whistled.

“Jeez, it's getting late! El and I had best scoot.” He chugged the rest of the beer down before getting to his feet, Ellis following suit.

“It was mighty nice of you to let us off the hook like that, Mr. Lafitte.”

“It's fine, boys. Next time, though, I wouldn't use your best silver to ride down pig filth,” the old timer chuckled.

Ellis clapped a hand to his forehead and groaned.

“Aw man, I forgot about that! My Momma's gonna kill me!”

“Forget it, you ain't staying at mine,” Keith snorted, before focusing on Coralee.

“It was nice t' meet ya, Miss.”

“Don't go,” she whispered, eyes downcast.

Keith felt his stomach tighten and he straightened up, towering over her like a grizzly bear.

“I gotta,” he said gruffly before grabbing Ellis by the elbow and herding him out, not looking back.

“Jeez Keith, what was that about?” Ellis asked when they had collected Keith's clothes from the back room and were back in the truck.

The red head swallowed and shook his head, looking back at the farmhouse. One of the chequered curtains was pulled back and a large pair of eyes was watching them imploringly. He looked away and pulled his still damp cap further down his face.

“That little girl... was it just me or did she seem... frightened?”

Ellis blinked.

“Big strapping guys like us? Sure. I used to get intimidated by my Aunt Gurdy like that when I was small. Size of a wardrobe, that woman! And she had this big ol' wart on her third chin that had this one curly hair poking outta it an-”

Keith flipped on the radio and zoned out as Ellis blathered away happily, his thoughts switching between dust masks, doe eyes and bullet holes.


	3. Raise Hell

“Shit!”

Keith groggily opened one eye. Deacon was clumsily getting ready for school, his socks mismatched and his glasses tangled in his hair.

“Watch your language, boy,” he mumbled, sitting up and stretching his limbs.

Deacon just scoffed and continued to dress. Taking that as his cue to leave, Keith went downstairs to find that his father had already left for work. However, to his surprise, his older sister Flannery was sat at the table; she was spooning heaps of sugar into coffee and looked somewhat shaken. Their mother was stood beside her, rubbing her back and cooing.

“Flan?” he asked, stretching and padding over to the fridge to grab a carton of OJ. She looked up and pushed her dyed blonde hair back so she could get a better view.

“What's on your face, kid?” she asked, narrowing her ochre eyes in his direction.

Keith raised his hand to his nose and huffed; there was still some shit under his nostril. He shrugged and promptly came up with a plausible lie, scratching the muck away as he did so.

“Me and El and Dave went mudding and I kinda fell out of the back of the truck. And don't call me kid; you're only three years older than me!”

The twenty-eight year old gave the ghost of a smile before her eyes returned to her coffee. She began to tremor then and their mom sprung into action, her circle motions becoming wider and firmer on Flan's back. Keith held his elbow and watched uncomfortably; his sister's panic attacks had always scared him. When her breathing became rapid and ragged he hurried to the drawer and grabbed the spare asthma pump that was kept there. He shook it and placed it in her mouth before spraying it. Tears streamed down her face and she gulped like a fish out of water. Five minutes passed and eventually she began to cool down, her eyes trained vacantly ahead of her.

"Jeez Flan,” Keith said uncertainly. “You ain't had an attack like that for a while; what's up?”

“I-it's Rufus,” she said, her right hand going to the golden wedding band on her left and twirling it absently. “Something happened to him.”

“What?” Keith's mind immediately went to the Green Flu and he silently cursed himself for not learning more about it or paying heed to the warnings.

“He, he just... you have to understand Ma, he loves me!” She twisted in her seat to look desperately at her mother, clutching onto the older woman's arm like it was a lifeline. Virginia Marshall patted her daughter's head sympathetically.

“I know baby girl, I know.”

“Flannery, what'd he do?” Keith demanded, his nerves now reaching peak levels. His sister turned her attention to him and her mouth curled up contemptuously.

“He bit me, okay?!” She yanked her sleeve up from her right arm to reveal a bloodied bandage that had been haphazardly applied. Keith approached and held her arm gingerly, examining the wound carefully; after many an accident he'd taken the time to learn first aid. His certificate sat proudly above his bed.

“I'll kill him,” he said finally, his tone hard and laced with venom.

“He's all the way in Atlanta, dumbass!” she snapped. “He attacked me super early this morning and I got straight into the car and came here.”

“What time did he bite you?”

“What? I... I dunno, about four or five, maybe?” Flannery wiped her nose and glared at him petulantly. “Why does it matter?”

“What did he look like?”

“Like fucking Rufus!” Flannery turned to look at Virginia. “Ma, he's upsetting me!”

“Keith, you're upsetting her,” their mother said sternly, her doe eyes looking disappointedly at Keith. He opened his mouth to protest before freezing. He shook his head and turned on his heels.

“Whatever. I have to go to work.”

 

~ *** ~

 

“He _what_?!”

“He fucking bit her, man!”

Ellis whistled and shook his head, removing his hat momentarily so that he could wipe at his brow.

“Shit, man. I thought Rufus was a hell of a nice fella when I met him at their wedding.”

“So did I,” Keith said empathetically.

The garage had been unusually quiet that day. Dave hadn't turned up and Mr. Keller never came to collect his Jeep. They'd tried to fill their time productively; they'd spent 20 minutes locked in a rap battle and in their boredom had begun to add kick-ass extras to the pickup truck. Now they were sat in the office, beers in hand and the AC whirring in the background. Keith took a swig from his bottle and looked up at the clock.

“It's one o'clock man, where's Dave?”

“Not sure, you know,” Ellis frowned. “Maybe he's still not feeling too well after yesterday? I don't think he ever went to the doctor.”

“Something ain't right, El,” Keith muttered, downing the dregs of his beer before placing the bottle on the floor. “I've got a bad feeling.”

Ellis was about to reply when the bell above the front door jangled. The pair of them looked up and Ellis turned to Keith with a questioning look. The elder of the two shrugged and headed to the mini fridge to grab another drink.

“You go. You're the people person.”

Ellis poked his tongue out before getting up and heading to the reception. Keith opened the bottle and took a sip before sauntering over to the office entrance and leaning against the door frame. He watched as two figures came into view; Ellis and Dave.

“... I mean shit man, we were worried about ya,” Ellis jabbered, springing over to the office as Dave trailed after him. Keith narrowed his eyes as their dark haired friend, who was watching Ellis with a look of... _fear_.

“Dave, where were you?” he asked and Dave turned to gape at him. 

“W-w-what happened to you guys?” Dave whispered, trembling.

“Huh? Dave man, what's wrong with you? You're white... and you're sweaty... hell, you look like shit,” Ellis said, approaching Dave as if to examine him when suddenly the latter jumped back, screaming. Ellis held his hands up. “Relax man, I ain't gonna hurt you!”

“Dave, calm the fuck down!” Keith cried, walking to Ellis' side.

“Stay back! Both of you, keep away!” Dave was huddled into the corner, sinking to his knees with his hands knotted in his hair.

“Dave, it's just us,” Keith said, the pair of them slowly approaching him. “It's Keith and Ellis. We're the Three Musketeers, 'member?”

“You're not Keith and Ellis!” he shrieked. “They don't look like you! Y'all are _monsters_ , that's what you are!”

Suddenly, he sprang into action. He pushed past them and grabbed a wrench that was lying on the desk. He began to wave it wildly, lurching forward and swinging his arm with such ferocity it was as though he were trying to take their heads clean off.

“Christ, Dave, stop!” Ellis screamed, trying to reach out and grab the wrench when Keith pulled him back.

“'Member what they taught you in karate, jackass!”

Ellis nodded and dropped down. He swiped his leg out and knocked Dave to the floor. Keith then straddled him and, in one deft movement, twisted the weapon out of Dave's grasp, who began to scream bloody murder.

“Dave, stop!”

And he did.

One minute, their friend was on the floor seizing and practically foaming at the mouth and then, in the briefest moment, he was still. Keith's mouth dropped open as his fingers went to feel Dave's neck. When there was no pulse, he tried mouth-to-mouth. When that failed to illicit a response he began to cry. The tears ran steady and frequent, falling down his face and onto the corpse below him. He bent forward and buried his face in the crook of Dave's neck, fisting his hand in the deceased's hair.

“Brother... I'm sorry,” he wept as Ellis put a hand on his shoulder.

“Keith-”

“He's gone, Ellis,” he interrupted, whipping his head round to glare up at him. “He's dead.”

The youngest mechanic's brow furrowed and he shook his head.

“No he ain't.”

“Wha-?” Keith looked down and his gaze was met with rheumy yellow eyes that unmistakably belonged to Dave. His skin had gone beyond the almost translucent white it previously was and had melted into a sickly green that was already in decay in various places. But it was the noises coming from his mouth – the ungodly, guttural moans – that told Keith that the person below him was not Dave.

“ _Christ_!” he hollered, jumping back and instinctively putting an arm in front of Ellis.

“Keith? He don't look right,” Ellis said falteringly. “Why's he look like that?”

“I dunno... Dave?” Keith began hesitantly. Dave gurgled and flopped onto his stomach like a beached fish. Moaning all the while, he unsteadily pushed himself up onto his feet. He then rotated so that he was looking in the direction of Keith and Ellis. He regarded them with a placidity that unnerved Keith, as it reminded him of a predator watching its next meal. “Da-”

He hadn't the time to finish.

Before the word escaped Keith's lips, Dave was running at them, his hands gnarled into claws. He shrieked and the noise was piercing to the ear.

“Fuck!” Keith and Ellis exclaimed simultaneously, the pair of them separating to opposite sides of the room. Dave seemed incapable of deciding which one to go to, as he twitched from one side to the other before his gaze settled on Keith. He yelled and scampered towards him, the motion wholly terrifying. Dave wrapped his hands around Keith's neck and began to beat into him, fists and nails assaulting his skin and making the eldest mechanic yelp in pain.

“Keith!” Ellis ran over and, unthinkingly, grabbed the wrench off the floor and slammed it into Dave's head. The tool lodged into his temple with a sickening squelch, and blood squirted out onto the floor. However, the assault didn't seem to deter Dave, who simply turned on Ellis. The Grissett boy began to run, with his friend chasing after him. Keith, who was somewhat winded by the attack, regained himself to follow. He cussed as Ellis ran into a closet.

He was cornered.

The panic in Ellis' face was evident from the distance that Keith was. Dave was snarling and hissing as Ellis pressed himself against the wall.

“Now Dave... I know this ain't you... you can fight it Dave, I know you can. Come on boy, come on!”

Dave stopped. He wavered in the spot, his head cocked as he took a moment to observe Ellis. For a second Keith thought that they had got through to him. Maybe this was all just a temporary thing, or a practical joke. Maybe the wrench jutting out of his head was one of those headband things you could get from Walmart on Halloween. Maybe, maybe...

Dave pounced. Ellis screamed as he was shoved to the floor. He squirmed under Dave's barrage, sobbing through his terror. Keith didn't hesitate. He surged ahead and threw Dave off of Ellis.

“ _Go_!”

Ellis scrabbled for the door and, with one final shove, Keith sent Dave hurtling into the wall. The shock gave Keith enough time to exit the closet and slam the door shut. He locked it and Ellis pushed a filing cabinet against it. From behind it they could hear Dave banging on the door and wailing relentlessly.

The pair of them looked at one another before Ellis said softly,

“What the fuck was that?”

And Keith honestly wished he knew.

 


	4. Bad Things

“Shit man, what do we do?”

Ellis paced back and forth as Keith juggled his beer bottle between his hands. After a mutual agreement to hide in the office, the pair found themselves once again drinking beer (with much less enthusiasm, it should be noted) and wondering what to do next.

“Hush up, I'm thinking,” Keith replied tartly, setting the beer on the floor in favour of stroking his goatee.

"I mean, we can't just leave him in there!” Ellis cried.

“Shut. Up.”

“What are we gonna do man, what are we gonna do-?”

“Christ Ellis, _shut the hell up_!”

The younger of the two froze in place and pursed his lips before folding his arms and glaring at the floor. Keith sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Look, I'm sorry. I'm just a little riled. This ain't exactly a common event now, is it?”

“'Naw I'm sorry, I'm the one getting worked up,” Ellis mumbled, unfolding his arms. “But seriously Keith, what _are_ we gonna do?”

“I guess the best thing is to try the ambulance again.”

“I can't; the number's engaged.” Ellis shook his head. “Keith, some crazy shit is going on. This ain't normal.”

“You're telling me,” the elder mechanic muttered, removing his cap to scratch at his head.

Ellis went quiet for a moment as he reflected on the day's events. Suddenly, he looked up and it was as though a light had gone off in his head.

“D'you think that has anything to do with that Green Flu Momma was talking 'bout the other day?”

Keith licked his lips and plunged his hands in his coveralls pockets. It made sense; it was the worst kept secret in town that CEDA had lost control of the Flu. But to have the potential to raise the dead? That was... that was crazy.

“I don't rightly know,” he confessed. “But what I _do_ know is we need to head back to our houses and round up our broods. Maybe they've heard somethin'.”

“Shit man,” Ellis grinned. “I've watched every apocalypse movie on the planet but I never thought I'd be in one! It's kinda exciting.”

“Heh, a little bit,” Keith chuckled grimly before snatching the keys for the pickup from the desk. “All right, let's go.”

"Wait!” Ellis cried suddenly. The red-head put his hands on his hips.

“What is it now?” he asked irritably. Ellis pointed to the barricaded closet.

“What about Dave?” Keith ran his tongue over his teeth and exhaled slowly. What _about_ Dave? They couldn't just leave him there to rot...

“We'll ring his folks and let them know he's here. With any luck they'll come get him,” he said decidedly. Ellis looked hesitantly towards the closet and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I dunno...”

“Ellis,” Keith said firmly, looking his friend dead in the eye. “That ain't Dave in there. Dave's dead.”

“Did he ever die? Or is he just... Infected?”

“Is there any difference?”

The Grissett boy mulled over this before nodding reluctantly.

“Okay. Let's go.” Keith nodded determinedly and the pair of them zipped up their coveralls before grabbing their wrenches and marching out the door.

~*~

The road in which the auto shop was located was set just off a main road, so that it was easier to reel customers in. Normally the area was a cacophony of traffic, music and shouting. However on that day the place was eerily quiet.

The pair kept their weapons aloft, anticipating anyone that may have been Infected.

“Maybe it's not as bad as all that?” Ellis mused, looking left and right.

Keith was less confident, but made a noise of acknowledgement regardless.

Just then, there came a gargle from the alley down the right side of the building.

Keith tensed and looked helplessly at Ellis; the truck was parked there. The younger of the two bit his lip before making a series of complicated hand gestures.

“The fuck are you saying?” Keith asked and Ellis put his finger to his lips.

“Ssshh! It's code, moron! I read it in the SAS Survival Guide.”

“That's British, man! Where'd you get that from?”

“Found it in that thrift store round the corner.”

“No shit? The one where they had that rat infestation?”

“Yeah, you got bit on the finger.”

“I swear down I caught rabies!”

“N'aw, you just _thought_ you got it so you played up to it.”

“Now I reckon that ain't true, y'see-”

Keith didn't get the opportunity to explain himself for at that moment an Infected with a mullet and a Midnight Riders shirt leapt at him and knocked him to the ground.

Ellis yelped and instantly went in with the wrench. However, he struck at the same time as Keith and the man's head practically concaved in on itself. The body dropped and pinned Keith down.

“Eh... little help?” Ellis hurried to push the corpse off of Keith. The red-head sat up and groaned, rubbing his head with his hand before looking down at his attacker. “Shit man... we killed him.”

“I don't think he was Dead, Keith.”

The statement seemed to momentarily floor them, for the pair of them both stared at the corpse and removed their hats as a mark of respect.

“Shit. A fellow Riders fan. Keith, I could bash my own skull in.”

“Don't.”

Keith looked at Ellis and felt his stomach curl; this kid was like his little brother. It was bad enough losing Dave but El too... he couldn't cope.

Ellis coughed and Keith shook himself back into reality.

“C'mon, we're losing daylight. Get to the truck.”

~*~

Once inside, Keith started the ignition and they began their drive to Ellis' house (it was decided they would go there first, as Ms. Grissett was all alone otherwise). Keith made sure to stick to the back roads and, as they got further into the city, it was evident that this was more than your average cold.

Already bodies lined the streets, with Infected hunched over them and biting into the corpses with a ferocity only seen in the wild. People were running and screaming. Cars were off-roading in a vain attempt to try and barge their way out of the city. Shops windows were broken as looters seized the opportunity to plunder unguarded stores. At one point, Keith caught glimpse of a sizzling neon pool of green acid, melting the flesh off of a middle aged woman who tripped into it.

“Holy shit,” Ellis breathed.

Keith turned and looked ahead of him; the road was blocked. A tandem of abandoned cars lined up before them, cutting them off and leaving them stranded.

“Ain't no way we're getting round that any time soon.”

“I ain't leaving the truck,” Keith snapped, craning his head. “If I make a U-Turn then we can go down the back road towards Downtown.”

“Okay. Looks like you're clear.”

Keith nodded and turned behind him as he began to manoeuvre the truck onto the sidewalk. As he backed up, a rather cumbersome Infected staggered behind and managed to get itself squashed between the truck and the wall. Ellis whooped as the body melted into the brickwork.

“Hoo-ee, you just sliced that one hamburger style!”

Keith grinned despite himself and span the truck in the opposite direction; in the darkest recesses at the back of his mind, part of him found the experience... kinda _fun_. The thought worried him something awful, but he felt it was best not to dwell on it.

It took twenty minutes longer to get to the Grissett house than it normally did. Whilst the back roads were relatively easy to get through, Keith did find himself having to barrel through the occasional clump of Infected shuffling about.

At least, he _thought_ they were Infected.

Keith ran a hand along his jaw and huffed; he'd have time to question his morals later. Right now, he needed to get his family safe.

He switched off the engine, but Ellis was already halfway to his porch. He opened the door and tore inside. Keith hurried after him.

“Momma?” Ellis called out into the empty rooms of the house. “Momma, where are you?”

Keith tried to quash the nerves that rose in the pit of his stomach. He cautiously opened every door, wrench brandished in case he had to pick off any stragglers. Then, from upstairs, a timid voice.

“Ellis? Is that you?”

“ _Mom_!”

Ellis sprinted upstairs faster than a jack-rabbit, and Keith dutifully followed him. Ms. Grissett's voice sourced from Ellis' bedroom and, when they opened the door, sure enough her gentile face was peering out from round the wardrobe door.

“Momma!” Ellis flung the door open and scooped the woman up into his arms, spinning her and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Keith closed the door behind him and approached, smiling at them from a distance.

“Oh Ellis, I was so worried! I tried to phone but all of the lines are blocked,” Ms. Grissett explained, clutching her son close. She looked over his shoulder and held her hand out to Keith, who took it gladly. “Boys, this is the Rapture, I'm sure of it!”

“Do you know what's going on, Momma?” Ellis asked, finally peeling her off and perching her down on the edge of the bed.

The woman shook her head wearily.

“No darlin', I'm afraid I do not. All I know is CEDA is mighty concerned 'bout this. They're setting up evacuation centres in every major city.”

“Are there any here?” Keith asked.

“Yes. The Vannah Hotel is the main evac centre but Liberty Mall is an option too.”

“I ain't got enough gas to get us to the Mall,” Keith said regretfully. Ellis shrugged.

“So we head to The Vannah. That ain't so bad; main evac centre means it's gotta have a lot of whirlybirds willing to get us outta here, right?”

“Right.” Keith scratched his hair under his hat before cracking his neck into place. “Plan of action: we head to my house, grab my horde, head over to The Vannah, get on the helicopters and get the hell outta dodge. Sound good?”

“Can I pack a bag first?” Ms. Grissett enquired, gesturing to her demure cotton dress. “I hardly think this is appropriate for air travel.”

“Momma, we ain't got time,” Ellis said exasperatedly. He immediately cringed when her sharp eyes fell on him.

“What was that tone?”

“Sorry ma'am,” he grouched, casting his eyes to the ground. She tossed her hair haughtily before turning to Keith.

“So we're heading over to your place then?”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Well let's get going.”

~*~

The ride was less tense than Keith had anticipated. The seating was somewhat crowded, as Ms. Grissett refused to sit in the back and wanted 'all her babies' in her vision at all times; it ended up with her sitting on her son's lap in the passenger seat. Her eyes were set firmly on Ellis, whom she was fussing over in that mother hen way that seemed permanently engrained into her.

“Your shirt is filthy, Ellis!” she tutted, picking at the home-made 'Bullshifters' tee in disgust. “I only ironed it this morning!”

“Momma, I don't think laundry matters in the middle of the apocalypse!”

“What if you meet a girl during the evacuations? We've gotta repopulate the Earth and I ain't getting grand-babies otherwise!”

“Momma, please!”

Keith chuckled and slowed as they approached his house. The street seemed to be vacant, as though everyone had packed up shop and left. It was unsurprising; who knows how long the evacuations had been running? Keith shifted to look at the Grissett family.

“Okay, I'm gonna quickly run in and bring them out. There's enough room in the back for all of 'em so that ain't a problem. Stay put but if you run into trouble honk three times.”

“Like 'Shaun of the Dead'?” Ellis queried, the glee on his face evident. Keith rolled his eyes and nodded. The younger mechanic pumped his fist and wormed his way out from under his mother's lap so as to claim his spot in the driver's seat.

Keith exited and began to head to his front door.

And then he saw it.

The front door was left open.

It was only a crack but it was an undeniable truth. Keith knew his father all too well to know that he would _never_ leave the door open on a normal day, let alone during the Apocalypse. He held his wrench up and crept up the steps. In his haste he trod on the creaky step. His muscles locked up and Keith scrunched his eyes shut. From inside, there was a muted wailing. He bit his lip and gently, oh so gently, nudged the door open.

The first thing he saw was blood. Blood and torn clothes. His breath hitched in his throat and he opened his mouth to call out when a hand clamped down on his wrist. He inhaled sharply and went to slam his wrench down when he was met with Deacon's imploring eyes. Shaking his head wordlessly, his younger brother led him to the kitchen. Inside was his mother and Paul, who had been having breakfast at his friend Billy's that morning.

“Ma, are y'all okay?” he asked, rushing over to their sides. Deacon closed the door behind them and scampered over. Virginia rested her head on her eldest son's shoulder and shook her head.

“My darlin' boy... we're doomed.” Paul whimpered and wrapped his arms tighter around his mother's thin frame.

“Don't talk like that, Ma. They're evacuating right now; Ellis and I got the truck and we're gonna head to The Vannah. We're bringing y'all with us. Now, where's Dad and Flannery?”

“I don't know about your father,” Virginia said quietly, staring down at her hands. “But your sister...” She stopped and began to sob quietly, her shoulders shaking with the force of repressing her moans.

“Wha-?” Keith stopped. Coming from the front room was that terrible keening he'd heard when he first came in, accompanied with a light operatic wail. He blinked. It sounded kind of like... “Flan?”

Tentatively, he went to the door and opened it. Deacon reached out for him, but the eldest Marshall boy didn't stop. He peered round and squinted; the room was dark, on account of all the blinds having been pulled down as a defence. However, thin beams of sunlight filtered through the slats, highlighting the dust in the air and the hunched up figure sitting in the centre of the front room.

Keith could barely make out its features. It was a woman and she was sat in tattered cotton underwear that looked as though someone had mixed colours with whites in the wash. Her hands were masking her face, but even if they hadn't been her lank blonde hair was curtaining her from the world. However, Keith knew his sister well enough to recognise her no matter what.

He ran his tongue over his lips and, steeling himself, began to walk over. Flannery was rocking back and forth, her bewailing mingling with growls and getting increasingly louder with every step.

Keith was almost out of the kitchen when the front door burst open. Vernon's barrel frame filled the doorway and he charged ahead.

“What in the hell is that noise?!”

That was the last thing he ever said.

As soon as their father entered, Flannery's head snapped up. Keith gasped minutely to see that her eyes were glowing a brilliant scarlet red. She opened her mouth and gave off a hideous shriek before she sprang to her feet and bared her nails, which had now elongated into midnight black, machete sharp talons.

She ran at Vernon, who watched with glazed eyes; it reminded Keith of the expression of a deer right before you shot it. Within seconds, she knocked him down and his bloodcurdling howls mixed with hers. Keith knew he should have helped but the deafening noise and the sheer terror of the situation rendered him useless.

He collapsed to his knees and put his hands over his ears, watching the gruesome scene unfold. Flannery was ripping into their father's chest, blood and bone and internal organs being thrown about like confetti. Every slash was accompanied with a roar and, if Keith didn't know any better, he'd think it was an act of revenge. But that was ridiculous, just like this entire situation; if he was in any other place in any other time, he might have laughed.

But he didn't.

It was only when Flan was done and she surged out of the house with her face in her bloodied hands once more that he allowed himself to move.

Keith crawled over to the pulpy mess that had been his father. There was nothing discernible of Vernon's face – it had been peeled off – and every other piece of him was torn and fraying. It reminded Keith of the time he'd wrestled Paul's stuffed horse off of a pitbull. Stuffing had drifted in the breeze like fallout and there was no hope of salvaging the remains; in the end he'd coerced Ms. Grissett into making him a new one.

He shut his eyes and, with all the strength he could muster, scrambled to the corner in time to vomit. His eyes burned as he did so, although no tears fell. He could have been there for an immeasurable amount of time before he wiped his mouth and got up. Heading to the front room, he retrieved a blanket and draped it over the remains before opening the kitchen door. His family looked at him inquisitively.

“Y'all ain't got nothin' to worry about now,” he told them. “But we've gotta get out of here now before the evac centre shuts down.”

Nodding resolutely, they all got to their feet and followed him. Virginia paused to look at the blanket. Her eyes met with Keith's and she cocked her head slightly. His mouth set into a grim line and her hand went to her mouth. She understood. With a firm hand, she led Paul and Deacon out of the door and closed it behind her.

“Ma, where are we going?” Paul piped up, his voice innocent and saccharine.

Virginia kissed her youngest child's hair.

“Some place safe, baby.”

“Are Dad and Flan gonna meet us there?” Deacon enquired and Virginia swallowed, tears threatening to overspill.

Keith looked helplessly to the pickup truck and Ellis, having done a quick headcount and noticed the two absentees, smiled brightly at the approaching Marshalls'.

“Hey y'all, nice to see you again! You guys okay?”

“Ellis!” the youngest two cried simultaneously, flocking over to the truck door. The Grissett boy clambered out and bundled them into his arms, smiling at them in such a way that for a moment it was as though everything was normal.

“Guess what?” he asked, dimples on full show and his cyan eyes sparkling.

“What?”

“Me, you guys and your Ma are all ridin' in the back of the truck! Me 'n Keith fortified it earlier so it's 99% more awesome! Ain't that gonna be cool?!”

“Yeah!” the kids cried enthusiastically and Ellis hastened to shush them.

“We gotta be quiet though, okay? Think of it as hide-and-go-seek, 'cept we're movin'. All right?”

The children nodded and Ellis placed them in the back of the truck before hopping in himself. He reached over and offered Virginia his hand. She accepted it gladly and he pulled her up before leaning in to place his mouth to her ear.

“I'm so sorry for your loss.”

She nodded dumbly and rubbed his tattooed arm before turning her head out to the road. Keith took that as his cue and went to the front. Ms. Grissett had moved to the passenger seat once again, allowing him to start the car. As the engine revved, the radio automatically turned on.

“ _Local evacuations are in the process of taking place, although the last twenty helicopters are currently in the vicinity at this time. It's important that-_ ”

Keith switched it off and continued to drive.

 


	5. Save Me Some Sugar (This Won't Take Long)

The Vannah Hotel, built in 1987 by hotelier Merle Felton, was an eight story building located on the borders of the city. It was in a prime location that made it within the vicinity of all major utilities and a hot spot for tourists. That's probably why CEDA made it its main evacuation centre. And _that_ would be the reason why the roads were completely congested.

“Shit!” Keith exclaimed, slamming his fist on the steering wheel when he caught sight of the chaos. “There ain't no way we're getting round that!”

“What're we to do?” Ms. Grissett wondered, turning to look at the congregation in the back. Ellis had obviously noticed the situation, although he was blatantly steering the children's attentions away from it.

Keith licked his lips and sighed, running his hand over his face.

“We got no choice. We're gonna have to dump the truck and run.”

“Run? Keith, I don't think we-”

“Ma'am, we don't have much choice,” he interjected, already unbuckling his seatbelt. Keith made his way to the back, narrowly dodging a man in a pristine white suit and navy blue shirt who was sprinting in the direction of The Vannah. “Hey, watch it man!”

The stranger slowed to a jog and turned to glare at Keith.

“Screw you, Huckleberry Finn!” the man scoffed before flipping Keith the bird and carrying on. The red head rolled his eyes before turning to his family, all of whom were watching him intently.

“Okay you guys, I'm afraid we ain't gonna get there by driving at this point. The Vannah is just up the road so we're gonna have to do some running. Deek, I'll carry you. Paulie, Ellis is gonna give you a piggy-back. We won't stop for nothing, we won't _be_ stopped by nothing; someone gets in your way, knock 'em over. If it's an Infected... well, y'all should have some idea of how to handle that. We clear?”

The group nodded before Deacon clambered onto his brother's back, pushing his glasses up with the back of his hand as he did so. Ellis hopped down before holding his arms out to Paul. He gratefully clutched onto him, his grip so tight Ellis choked slightly. Ms. Grissett and Virginia stood side-by-side, the pair of them temporarily united in their mutual roles as mothers. The sense of leadership overwhelming him, Keith's eyes flickered to Ellis. The youngest mechanic inclined his head and, taking the sign for what it was, Keith began to run.

The Vannah was a good thousand metres away and the whir of the helicopter blades spurred Keith on to run faster than the time he'd been chased by a bull. Every so often he'd look over his shoulder to check on the others; Ellis was by his side and the two women were in close pursuit. In the distance, Keith made out a group of what he presumed were Infected homing in on stragglers. He swallowed and ploughed on, dodging and weaving his way through the labyrinth of cars, corpses and other runners desperate for sanctuary.

As he leapt over an upturned trash can, Deacon whimpered; he was slipping. Keith's pace decreased slightly as he hoisted his brother higher. Ellis shot past them, turning back to check on them when he cried out. Keith looked back and he too yelled; Ms. Grissett had tripped and the Infected could _run_.

Virginia halted and looked desperately from the boys to the other woman before determination set in her face.

“Go!” she shouted at the young men before sprinting back to grab Ellis' mother. An Infected reached for them and, in one deft movement, Virginia booted it in the stomach and sent it staggering back into the others, throwing the entire crowd off and gaining them enough time to continue after their sons, who had continued to run (albeit reluctantly). When Keith caught sight of the women he hollered in excitement; when he saw the CEDA vans he yelled even louder.

The carpark of The Vannah was crowded with CEDA trailers, about thirty petrified people and one News 10 van that had been overturned. Keith noticed a pretty African American woman in a 'Depeche Mode' tee being pulled through the window by a man in a purple and yellow polo shirt who seemed double her age and double her size. He didn't appear to be Infected, so Keith left them be. Using his elbows, his legs and a large amount of yelling, Keith managed to lead his group to the front. A CEDA agent was stood on a platform, nervously playing with the bullhorn in his right hand as riot police pushed the crowd back.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid that there are now only five helicopters with us at this time. We can fit five people to each copter, so please make your travel decisions now.”

Keith turned and counted out his group; him, Deacon, Paul, Ellis, Ms. Grissett and Virginia.

“There's six of us,” he concluded, biting his lip.

“Well, can't one of us get on another whirlybird?” Ellis asked.

“We can't split up other families,” Keith argued. With a goal in mind, he placed Deacon on the floor and squared his shoulders. “I'll stay behind.”

“Screw that!” Ellis cried, handing Paul over to Virginia.

“I second that!” the woman added, fixing her firmest glare at her oldest boy. “I've already lost two of the most important people in my life today, to hell if I lose another!”

“Well we can't _all_ get on the copter!” Keith shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “I'm stayin' and that's that!”

Everyone in the group watched him, each one of them thinking very different things. From behind the crowd, the group of Infected had begun to surge ahead; the riot police did their best to fight them off, but it was evident they were going to lose this battle. The CEDA agent noticed this and waved his hands in the air.

“I want everyone in groups of five and ready to go _now_!” Keith turned to his group and nodded resolutely.

“Y'all ready to go?” Virginia grabbed him and clutched him to her, tears overspilling.

“My boy... my baby boy...” He patted her back gently and peeled her off. Ellis, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet up until that point, walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders.

“I can't let you do this, boy,” he said firmly.

“You ain't got a choice,” Keith countered and Ellis shook his head.

“That's where you're wrong.”

“Wha-?”

Keith didn't get the opportunity to finish.

With a sudden burst of strength, Ellis shoved his friend forward and ushered the group after him. Before Keith could regain his footing, riot police had already begun to herd him into The Vannah.

“No, get off me!” he hollered, throwing his fists about as he reached for his best friend. “Ellis!”

But the youngest mechanic had already begun to vanish from his view, lost in the sea of evacuees. The red head screeched and tried his best to get back, but a nightstick to his spine shut him up long enough to force him onto a chopper.

Keith pressed his face to the window in time to see The Vannah get overwhelmed.

“ELLIS!”

His scream echoed through the passenger hold and mingled with the sobs of Ms. Grissett and the Marshalls'.

Nothing more was said as there was nothing to add.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. It's Just My Blood and Bones

“Where are we?”

 

Keith looked up from where his head was in his hands. Paul had his face pressed up against the window, squinting out at the scenery. He frowned and turned to look out his own window. They were in what seemed to be a military base, with soldiers and hazmat suited CEDA scientists flitting around armed with guns and needles. A herd of skittish civilians were being grouped and led off in different directions. In the distance, Keith could hear gun shots.

 

“What the heck is goin' on?” he wondered, turning to his group. Ms. Grissett was fingering a thin gold chain that hung round her neck, the crucifix charm swinging slightly.

 

“The damned Apocalypse,” she murmured, eyes vacant and red rimmed. Keith bit his lip; she wasn't wrong. As he sat up, the door to the helicopter opened. The pilot was stood before them, his visor pulled low over his face.

 

“Okay people, please exit in an orderly fashion and wait for instructions from a CEDA official,” he ordered, the spiel well rehearsed to the point where it was monotonous. Keith narrowed his eyes.

 

“Where are we?” he demanded.

 

“I'm afraid I can't tell you that, sir.”

  
“I have a right to know.”

 

“It's against protocol.”

 

“Who in the hell am I gonna tell? The _zombies_ ‽” The pilot winced. 

 

“They are called 'Infected', sir.”  
  


“Screw you, I know a zombie when I see one.” The pilot took a deep breath and folded his arms.

 

“Nevertheless sir, I cannot specify our exact location.”

 

“Can't you tell us anything?” Virginia implored, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. Keith had to suppress a smirk; he knew that face. Whenever his Ma wanted something – a discount at a store or an extra bread basket at a restaurant – she'd use her natural beauty to seduce the staff into doing anything she wanted. 9 times out of 10, it worked. And that certainly was the case in this situation. The pilot audibly swallowed and looked around nervously before leaning in.

 

“I can't tell you our _exact_ location,” he repeated before pausing. “But I _can_ tell you that we're about twenty miles east of Savannah.” 

 

“That ain't far at all!” Keith cried. “Why the hell are you 'evacuating' us but then hardly keepin' us outta harms way?”

 

“This isn't the permanent location, sir,” the pilot responded frostily. “This is just to cull the crowd, so to speak. The final place of deportation will be on military-controlled cruise ships in the Gulf of Mexico.”

 

“Did you just say 'cull'?” Deacon asked curiously. The pilot ignored him and turned to the side.

 

“Please exit in an orderly fashion or I'm going to have to get guards to help escort you.”

 

“Yeah yeah, we're goin',” Keith grumbled, pushing his hands down on his knees to lever himself up before hauling Deacon onto his hip. The younger brother leaned in, pushing his glasses up to magnify his already wide eyes.

 

“I read what 'cull' means in my dictionary,” he whispered.

 

“Yeah?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow. “What's it mean?”

 

“Reducing a group,” he explained, pausing briefly and swallowing.

 

“How?”  
  


“... Through selective killing.”

 

Keith froze and held his brother steady, staring at him with an incredulity that made the boy look away ashamedly. 

 

“You're not serious?” he asked “Tell me you ain't serious.”

 

“I'm sorry, Keith,” the boy said under his breath. “But it's true.”

 

“Well _shit_ , what kinda shady operation are you people runnin'?!” Keith hollered, planting his brother on the floor and spinning round to glare at their 'saviours'. 

 

“Sir, please remain calm,” the pilot ordered and Keith laughed hysterically.

 

“Don't you tell me to calm down! Y'all are insane, that's what you are! You're gonna kill us!”

 

“What?!” Virginia squawked, clutching Paul closer.

 

“ _Sir_ ,” the pilot hissed, looking round at the surrounding crowds; people had begun to home in on the conversation and were looking somewhat panicked themselves. 

 

“No, you had best start tellin' us the truth!”

 

“Sir, I'm warning you-”

 

“You're warning _me_?!”

 

“ _Yeah_ , I'm -”

 

“Gentlemen,” a sharp voice cut through the congregation. Everyone turned to the source of the vocals. A woman in what must have been her mid-fifties walked forward, her hobnail boots thumping the ground with each meaningful stride. She stood before them and Keith got the distinct impression of feeling somewhat small in her presence. “May I ask what all this is about?”

 

“This fella here said that y'all are gonna cull us,” Keith answered, pointing an accusing finger at the pilot who, despite his face being covered, was visibly anxious before the woman.

 

“Oh did he?” The lady turned to glare at the pilot, who shrunk back; had he not been so frustrated, Keith might have laughed. “I can assure you sir, that is a _gross_ exaggeration on this pilot's part. We haven't any such intention.”

 

“Who are you?” a random person questioned. The woman turned to face the crowd and instantly there was a respectable hush.

 

“I am Sergeant Adler of the United States Marine Corps, GA division. I have been ordered to run this evacuation centre and rest assured, my men and I are doing everything in our power to get you and your families to safety. Your being brought here is nothing more than procedure; we are simply going to perform quick routine checks on you all so as to determine who is in what position at this point in time.”

 

“How'd you mean?” another person called. Sergeant Adler turned in their direction with a sharp eye.

 

“CEDA has now reached a point where they are able to identify anomalies within an individual's DNA structure that may result in various reactions to the common strain of the Green Flu. At this point in time, we can identify those that are Susceptibles and Carriers and we are close to finding Immunes.”

 

“There are people who are immune?”

 

“None that we have encountered as of yet. However, our scientists have found ways to identify one should the situation arise.”

 

“What happens to all the different groups?” Keith asked. Sergeant Adler's attentions turned to him and, despite the natural dominance in her stare, Keith didn't shy away.

 

“They will be separated and then sent into different locations. It's all very organised, sir.”

 

“I ain't gonna be separated from my family,” Keith snapped and the Sergeant cocked an eyebrow, the corner of her mauve lip quirking upwards slightly.

 

“You're spunky,” she noted.

  
“You don't know the half of it, ma'am,” Keith retorted. She scoffed and clicked her finger at a watching soldier. The man approached and clicked his heels together.

 

“Sir?”

 

“This one here,” she said, pointing at Keith with a pencil-straight finger. “He'll be the first to be tested.”

 

“Keith!” Virginia cried as the soldier grabbed Keith's elbows.

 

“Get off'a me!” he bellowed, kicking his legs out and swinging his arms.

 

“Hit him, civilian, and you can be arrested,” Sergeant Adler boomed.

 

“This is the end'a the fuckin' world and you think I care about that?!”

 

“You should when he has a gun.” To prove a point, the soldier spun his weapon round and smacked Keith around the back of the head with the butt. The last thing he heard was his family's panicked screams before he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

“ _Keith? Keith, where are you?!”_

 

_Keith blinked, trying to force himself into reality. His eyes were blurred and his head was pounding, but despite the haze he swore he could hear a familiar voice calling him from beyond the void._

 

“ _E-Ellis?”_

 

_The name tasted familiar on his tongue, which inspired him to open his eyes wider. Indeed, there was a warped figure staring at him, decked in a blue hat and a yellow tee that was just a little too tight for the full frame._

 

“ _Holy fuck, Keith, you've gotta wake up!” the hick cried, reaching out for Keith but not touching him. “You're in danger, you've gotta wake up!”_

 

“ _El, where are you?”_

_  
“WAKE UP!”_

 

* * *

 

Keith startled awake, and was immediately made aware of the shooting pain up his arm. He looked to the source and yelped; an IV drip was attached to his vein.

 

“What the fuck?!” he cried, grabbing the tube but not pulling it (he'd been in enough hospitals and seen enough shitty action movies to know that it was _not_ a good idea to yank out a drip).

 

“Sir, please calm down,” a petite blonde nurse said from beside him.

 

“No, where am I?!”

 

“You're in the testing centre. Please, it's nothing to be alarmed about; we're checking you for Carrier genes, that's all.”

 

“So you can what, ship me off to some fucking farm and slay me like a cow? Get the fuck away from me, lady!” Keith snarled, spit flying from his mouth in a way that, in normal circumstances, he would find undignified. Speaking to the nurse as he was would be undignified; but these were not normal circumstances and Keith was in no mood for societal convention.

 

“I need security in here, stat!” the nurse yelped, darting away from his side despite the fact that he was strapped firmly in place.

 

“Where are my family? Where the _fuck_ is my _fucking family_?!”

 

He was writhing and screaming his lungs out by the time two soldiers barged into the room and restrained him. As a mask was placed on his face and yet another sedative was blown into his face, Keith could hear the slurred voice of a doctor address the nurse. He didn't catch most of the conversation, but he certainly heard the nurse's gasp and the distinct word **immune.**

 

 


End file.
